Chapter 3
September 21, 2009
Millbury Massachusetts
“John, I don't think that's very funny.” Sara said, slightly pissed off.
“Sara, I'm not kidding. I've been watching the news all damned day. They're spreading like wildfire. From Texas and California to Boston in less than a day!” John said, raising his voice.
“Stop it, John! It's not funny!” Sara yelled, pushing past John.
“Fine, you turn on the TV and tell me what you see!” John said. He hadn't meant to yell at her. He could tell she was scared. “Sara...” But he didn't know what else to say.
Sara stalked angrily towards the television set in the living room and brutally stabbed the power button with her finger. The TV turned on to the channel John had been watching before she got home, it was showing scenes from a news helicopter over the Zakim Bridge. It looked like a beautiful afternoon, the sun setting over the Boston skyline, if it weren't for what Sara saw as she glued her eyes to the television screen.
Two distinct crowds of people were running between stopped or crashed cars on the bridge. Smoke from burning vehicles momentarily obscured the scene. Then, the wind blew, and Sara watched in horror as the pursuing crowd overtook the fleeing crowd. The camera operator zoomed in just as the crowds began to mingle, on to a fleeing family. The father was wearing a very nice gray business suit and carrying a briefcase in his left hand. In his right he clutched a terrified young girl, complete with a doll and pig tales. A hysterical dark haired young woman followed, the jewelry on her left hand gaudily sparkling in the afternoon sun. Sara watched as three blood covered savages, one of them wearing a FedEx jumpsuit, grabbed the woman, pulled her down to the ground, and began to eat her.
Sara stumbled backward, as speechless as the news crew in the helicopter. She felt sick to her stomach, but couldn't focus long enough to decide what to do next. John shut the TV off and wrapped his arms around her. She fought for a second, but then relented. She held on to him without speaking for several minutes. Finally, she pulled back, wiping her eyes.
“Fuck,” was the only word she could get out.
Once he knew Sara couldn't hear or see it, about half an hour later, John turned the television back on. She was in the bedroom packing some clothes. A local announcer interrupted the constant scenes of carnage coming from Boston.
“The Governor has just declared a state of emergency for the entire state of Massachusetts. Both the National Guard and the State Guard have been mobilized and ordered into Boston to help contain the...er...rioters. All citizens have been ordered to remain where they are. I repeat, all citizens have been ordered to remain where they are.” He muted the television. John carried several large duffel bags to the Volvo, tossing them one after the other in the back. He hadn't realized how many supplies he had packed in the canvas bags; even with the back seats folded down, it was a tight squeeze.
“So much for the company's season tickets for the Pats,” John muttered ruefully to himself. He doubted he would get to take Sara to Foxboro for the next game.
Sara and John spent the next hour making sure everything important to them, everything irreplaceable, every photo and document, was packed and in the car. He was thankful Sara had made copies of their birth and marriage certificates, stockpiled their favorite wedding and family pictures, and he was glad she knew just where their passports were. Finally, after everything was tucked into the bags, John locked down every window, made sure all the other exits were locked up tight, and walked to the car. He had a long item in a brown wool sock over one shoulder, and his keys in his hand. He looked at Sara.
“Do you have your pistol, sweetheart?”
Sara patted a slight bulge behind her right hip. “Of course.” She attempted a smile, and John could tell she was trying to be brave for him, but it didn't seem like the right moment to tell her everything would be alright.
“Looks like that's it, then. Let's hit the road.” John stopped at the door and turned around, looking back in to the house. “Princess!” he called, “Come on girl! Time to go.”
Princess stuck her head out of the den, looking down the hall at John. She ducked back in to the room. A few seconds later, she came back into the hall, dragging her scruffy bed behind her. John just looked at her, shaking his head slowly. “That's your dog, Sara. I don't even know her.” He thought he saw a bit of a real smile trace her lips.
John drove the Volvo as fast as he dared on the old back roads. They'd decided not to try chancing Route 146. John didn't know how serious the local police would be about enforcing the stay at home rule, and he didn't really want to test it. The roads appeared mostly deserted, only the occasional vehicle passing by. Some appeared completely oblivious to what was going on, but a few vehicles looked to be filled with families and their belongings, heading to who knew where. After thirty minutes, they arrived at their location, a cozy little house on the main street in Uxbridge with a sign on the mailbox with the word Maxwell in bright gold letters. They pulled in to the driveway behind Jose's pickup.
John got out first, scanning the area. He motioned to Sara that it was safe. The couple, followed by a bounding Princess, walked quickly to the side door of the Sara's parents' home. John carried the sock covered object and a small canvas bag. The door opened as they approached.
“Dude, did you see? Zombies!” Jose stood in the doorway, barefoot, with only a pair of blue jeans on.
John and Sara quickly entered, pushing past Jose. Princess darted inside the house. Happy growls could be heard from inside the house as Princess found Fish, the Maxwells' big yellow Labrador Retriever.
“Hey, little brother. Close the door.” Sara said as she hugged Jose. “Where's Mom?”
“In the basement folding laundry. Dad's in his office playing World of Warcraft.” Sara headed through the kitchen to find her mother in the basement. “Did you see the news, John?” Jose was practically vibrating with energy as he stood there, bouncing from foot to foot.
“Yeah, we saw. We're heading up to Vermont. We want you guys to come with us,” John said.
“Why, what's in Vermont? Trees?”
“And food, and weapons, and more importantly, less people.” John answered. He never understood how his in-laws thought trees were the only thing that existed in his home state.
“Dad'll never go for it. You know him.” Jose remarked, shaking his head.
Sara walked down the stairs into her parent's basement. She saw her mom bent over a stack of laundry, Ipod earbuds in each ear. She smiled at her mom shaking her butt to whatever song was playing.
She walked up and tapped Dierdre Maxwell on the shoulder. Dierdre turned around, smiling as she saw Sara. She pulled the headphones out and hugged her daughter. “Sara, I didn't know you were coming over. You never tell me. The house is a mess.” The house was immaculate, but Dierdre always insisted it wasn't.
“Mom, have you seen what's going on in the city?”
“Oh, the riots? I heard something about it. People were stocking up on groceries today at the market.” Her mother made a dismissive gesture with her hands and turned back to her pile of clothes.
“Mom, it's way more serious than that. They're not riots. They're something much worse, and it's happening all over the country.” Sara said, exasperation clear in her voice. “We came to get you. I don't think just having some extra water in the house is going to cut it this time. We want you to come to Vermont with us for a little while. You can stay in our cabin. We have plenty of room.”
“Oh dear, no sweetie, I have work in the morning, and your father has a big job over in Webster.” Deirdre said as she continued to fold someone's underpants.
“Mom, come on, this is serious!” She could feel herself losing patience with her mother. “How can you not be paying attention?”
“Oh calm down, Sara. Go say hi to your father. Did he see Princess yet? Then I'll put some chicken in the oven. You're staying for dinner, aren't you?”
Sara turned away from her mother, tears of frustration threatening to spill down her cheeks. She blinked furiously as she stomped up the stairs. A few moments later she stood in her father's office. A blue skinned Night Elf was attacking the short hairy Dwarf on the big computer monitor.
“Hi Daddy.” Sara said, coming up behind her father.
“Hey baby girl. Can't talk now, I'm in a fight.” Dutch Maxwell said, rapidly clicking away at his mouse button.
“Dad, we need to talk about something serious. We want you and mom to come stay with us for a few days in Vermont.”
“Sure kiddo, whatever you say. Maybe next weekend?” The Night Elf appeared to be winning the fight.
“Dad, right now. Have you seen what's going on in Boston? In California?” Sara said, raising her voice.
“Yeah I heard some kind of riots. Half of my guild didn't show up for the war. I am really pissed off!” Dutch pressed the attack, making the hairy little Dwarf swing his ax at the Night Elf's knees. “Hah! Weren't ready for that, were you? Friggin' Elves!”
“Oh you have got to be kidding me! DADDY! Pause the god damned game!” Sara screamed, right in her father's ear. She had never sworn at her father. She felt her cheeks get red.
“Jesus H. Christ, Sara, what the hell is wrong with you? You know I can't pause this, and it's not a game,” Dutch said, not entirely looking away from his monitor.
“Dad, “ She had avoided crying in front of her mother, but her dad was a whole other story. Tears began to stream down her face. “Dad, you have to come with us right now.”
“Sara, calm down. Go help your mom fix dinner.”
“John, they don't even know what's going on. I don't know what to do. They're not getting it.” Sara stood in Jose's room next to John. Jose sat on his bed, a long silver samurai sword resting across his knees.
“Damn. Alright, here's what we're gonna do.” John took the sock off the long object he'd been carrying, revealing a black pump action shotgun with a pistol grip. He handed it to Jose. “Here, take this. Just keep it out of sight so your parents don't flip out.” He handed the canvas bag to Jose. “There's some ammo in here and about a week's worth of protein bars. Stay in the house, do whatever you have to do to make your parents stay home tomorrow. By then, they should know that something serious is going on.”
“I can do that!” Jose said, eyes gleaming as he held the shotgun in his hands.
“If things get worse, come to Vermont. You know where my parents' house is, and it's in your dad's GPS. Our cabin is behind that, can't miss it.”
Sara spent a few minutes hugging Jose, then her dad, and finally her mom. “I don't know why you won't stay for dinner, Sara,” her mom said. Sara didn't even have the heart to argue.
They walked out to the car. John opened the back door for Princess. She bounded up in to the station wagon, tail wagging for whatever adventure they were about to embark on. John reached in past her, to one of the duffel bags. He unzipped it and pulled out a black AR 15 carbine. He checked the magazine, making sure it was loaded. Slipping the carbine up between the front seats, John got in to the driver's seat.
The maroon Cross Country backed out of the driveway and headed north.
